Return Of The Holy Tax Accountant
by AllThingsAnime123
Summary: As the title suggests, its the return of everyone's favourite nerdy angel! Written at 3a.m. so probably awful.. Hinted Destiel and a touch of Sabriel. Oneshot! Please no flames D: Reviews will be greatly appreciated! x


Okay, this came about after I heard about the recent Supernatural episodes. My friends have been watching them, I haven't. And when I heard what happened to Cas.. All I'm saying is Gamble, I'm coming for your soul. But I couldn't just let all the depressing shit stick, soI felt the need to write this.  
>This was a total spur-of-the-moment thing, so it's probably crap. And I've probably got a loadof stuff wrong 'cos as I said, I haven't got around to actually watching it yet, so please don't flame me if that's the case. I just felt this whole Castiel saga needed a happy ending..<br>And yes, I brought Gabriel back too. Because I love that shrimpy archangel more than words can say 3 xP  
>I don't own Supernatural, regrettably.. I know how to look after awesome characters.. Unlike <strong>SOME<strong> people.. Not that I'm bitter or anything..

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><p>Dean Winchester was a moron.<p>

At least, that was his personal opinion of himself. Sure, he could talk a big game and keep his face straight, but inside he was falling apart, piece by piece. The only things keeping him together, intact, were a few feeble strings. And one by one, they were being snapped by things that were out of his span of control.

He and Sam were drifting apart. It was obvious to him how his younger brother wasn't coping well with his hallucinations of Hell, courtesy of the devil Himself. Dean had spent all of his childhood and teenage years looking out for Sam, making sure the boy stayed out of trouble and out of harm's way. He literally gave his _soul_ to keep Sam safe. He had lost count of just how many times they had had each other's backs, and had been the other's only reason for keeping on their destined paths. And now, he was forced to watch as one of his last remaining family members slowly rotted away, driven mad by his own mind, without being able to do a damn thing to stop it or take the burden from his younger brother's shoulders.

Bobby had nearly died. The man who had acted as more of a father to himself and Sam than their own blood father, could have burned to death, stuck in his house as it was set upon by the Leviathans. The old hunter, like Sam, was one of the very few people still walking the earth that Dean would admit to loving as family. As Bobby himself had said, '_family don't end with blood, boy_'. It was a statement the man had proved again and again, time after time, with all the sacrifices he had made for both Dean and Sam. Dean would never have forgiven himself if Bobby had perished in the blaze, and seeing him perfectly alive and well rekindled a spark of relief Dean had thought had long been extinguished within him.

Sam and Bobby were still with him; he could still reach out and touch them.

But not Castiel. The one who had gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. The awkward nerdy angel that had learned and developed so much under Dean's guidance. The reason he was still drawing breath for more times than he could count. The angel, who had risked everything, turned his back on all that he believed in, all because Dean had told him to trust in him. Castiel had done so much for Dean, healed him more than physically, and restarted emotions deep within the human that he had believed to be long gone. The one who had stuck by him, through everything. The one who had seen him at his very worst, torturing souls in Hell, and had stayed resolutely beside him, healing him and trying to fill the deepening chasm within. The one who had been a constant source of support, undying loyalty and a good laugh when Dean had really needed it. The one who Dean Winchester could honestly say he trusted with all his heart.

But now he was gone.

Dean had seen the angel falling, seen him suffering, and had barely raised a finger to help him. After everything the two of them had been through together, after all that they had seen, Dean had allowed his temper to get in the way of his vision; that Castiel _needed_ him now more than ever before. Castiel had _needed_ Dean to sway him away from the dealings with Crowley. He had _needed_ to be told that he was no longer fighting his battles alone. But Dean had done nothing, too angry by the angel's treachery. And by the time Castiel had come seeking his help, it was too late.

The elder Winchester could remember vividly the moment when he saw that trenchcoat come floating towards him. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so lost, clueless as to what had to be done. His body moved into autopilot, scooping the sopping wet, precious coat from the chill of the lake, folding it up in his shaking hands. He felt entirely numb. Castiel was the one constant in his life; the one that had _always_ been there, without fail. All he needed to do was call out the angel's name and he would have appeared by his side in a matter of seconds.

And now he was somewhere Dean could no longer call him from.

That night, he had taken the trenchcoat from its seat in the back of the Impala and brought it into his motel room with him. He had laid it on his pillow, hands lost in its soft folds, gently caressing the material. Every time he breathed in, he was inhaling the scent of Castiel, his angel. Each breath reminded him of what he had lost, of what he had _done_. If he had made different choices, there was a chance the angel would never have died. Just thinking this sent Dean's protective shield crumbling into dust, and he lay awake for the rest of the evening, the occasional tear tracing down his face.

He was a moron.

Because of him, the one constant in his life was gone.

He blinked, finally coming out of his reverie. He was still in the gloomy cheap motel room, sprawled out on his bed. Moving slowly, every inch a supreme effort, he turned his head to glance across the room. Sam was sat at the small table near the entrance to the bathroom, tapping away wildly at the keys of his laptop, fully focused on whatever it was on the screen.

Dean fell back against the pillow, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch in what once might have been a smile. He knew that Sam was spending most of his evenings on the laptop, not searching for porn or researching a case, but looking up angel lore. Unlike Dean, Sam didn't seem to have fully given up. For the first few days after Castiel walked into the lake, Dean had sat waiting expectantly for the angel to suddenly appear beside him like he normally did. All the time his broken leg was healing, he fully expected to wake up with it fully healed with no logical explanation other than an angel who wanted to remain hidden. But no go. It seemed as if, this time, Castiel was dead for good.

And yet Dean couldn't force himself to accept that. He wanted to, so badly. Holding out for a lost hope was much more painful than accepting the inevitable. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't let Castiel go.

He supposed that was why he hadn't told Sam he knew all about his younger brother's supposedly secret research. If Dean confronted him about it, telling him to accept that the angel was gone and he wasn't coming back, then there was the slightest chance Sam might just take that advice. Dean couldn't face spending hours sitting in front of the laptop or poring over books when he knew nothing they could do would bring Castiel back. But that didn't mean it wasn't comforting to have at least one other person still believing the angel would return.

"Hungry, Sammy?" Dean asked, getting to his feet and stretching, sending what he hoped resembled a comforting smile over to his brother. It was how he coped with things; game face on, feelings squashed down into the depths of his being.

Sam glanced up from his laptop at the sound of Dean's voice. He shot his brother a worried glance which went thoroughly ignored. Only just managing to hold back a sigh, he shrugged.

He was sick of Dean's practically transparent fake happy demeanour, acting like he was perfectly fine when nothing could be further from the truth. The routine had run itself very thin very quickly. He just wanted his brother to be honest with his feelings for once, rather than feeling they had to be kept bottled up. But that wasn't how Dean worked. He didn't do 'chick flick moments'. But the false cheer was worse than what he was really feeling, it _had_ to be. Sam knew better than most how things that were kept locked deep inside slowly ate away at you, and he hated seeing Dean do that to himself, especially when it was so _clear_ he was desperate for help.

"I guess." He replied, turning back to the laptop.

"Be back in a few, then."

Sam wasn't stupid, and he resented being treated as such. He had woken up several times in the night after hearing his brother leaving, and he knew exactly where Dean was going. He was sitting out in the Impala, huddled up against Castiel's trenchcoat. He would never admit to it if Sam confronted him about it, so the younger Winchester kept quiet and pretended to be ignorant of Dean's night-time wanderings. He could also ignore the way Dean stared off into space for hours on end, eyes glazed over, and the tiniest hint of a grin on his face. Sam was willing to bet anything he owned that his brother was imagining Castiel standing not far away from him, staring straight back whenever he did this. But then something would happen that snapped Dean out of his reverie; the smile would slip almost instantaneously and the green of his eyes turned back to a sluggish, dark colour.

But it was getting beyond a joke.

He had his own issues, what with the hallucinations sent by Lucifer; he didn't need the added stress of Dean slowly wasting away on top of that. And yet, he could think of nothing that could rectify what had happened. No demon in their right mind would be willing to help them bring back an angel. Crowley had vanished off the face of the earth, so he was firmly out too. Bobby was just as clueless as they were. And of course, more than half of the information concerning angels that Sam had access to was complete rubbish. Resorting to desperate measures, he had even tried talking aloud, hoping that some sort of higher power could help them in their plight. But only when Dean was out of the motel room, of course. He didn't need his brother's sarcastic comments added on top of all the extra weights on his shoulders.

As he heard the sound of the Impala's engine dying away, Sam got to his feet and crossed the motel room to his bed, which he promptly collapsed on, keeping his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Outside, the sky darkened and rain began to pelt against the motel, soaking the window pane in moments. Sam rubbed his face with his hands, before glaring back up at the motel ceiling.

"I know you're out there," He began, his tone angry, "I've met enough of your damn angels to know you exist. So I know you can hear what I'm saying."

Bobby had told him it was useless; that there was nobody listening to him. But Anna had confirmed that there really was a God, admitting that only four angels had ever laid eyes on Him, Gabriel being one of them. Sam winced slightly. Thinking of Gabriel was painful. He shook his head slightly, ridding it of any images of the grinning, cocky archangel, and forced his mind back to his task. If there was even the _slightest_ chance that someone out there could hear him, he was taking it with both hands and Dean would give up pie before he let it go.

"Answer me, dammit!" Sam growled, now sitting up. The rain outside fell harder. "You brought him back before, so do it again. It's easy as blinking for you. He did everything in _your_ name. He thought what he was doing was right because _you_ were too busy to give him a straight damn answer."

Dean would probably laugh himself silly if he saw Sam trying to talk to _God_, never mind bad-mouthing Him. But as far as Sam was concerned, he was well and truly out of options. If he continued to do nothing, Dean would slowly spiral into moral decline, and Sam had become far too dependent on his brother to allow that to happen. And, if nothing else, Castiel had been his friend too. They didn't have the same undying 'profound bond' that Dean shared with the angel, but he knew that if Castiel was ever in danger, he, Sam, would help in any way and liked to think that the angel would have done the same for him. After all, he had been the one that reminded Castiel that he and Dean still considered him as part of their Team Free Will.

"I know you can hear me, God. So do what you have _never_ once done, and give me a straight fucking answer!"

_BOOM!_

Sam jumped so high he physically left his bed, rolling to the side and grabbing the shotgun underneath his pillow, aiming it at the doorway. The door had been thrown backwards and currently rested against the wall. A dark shape stood in the threshold, holding itself somewhat awkwardly. It was leaning towards one side, as if one side weighed more than the other. Sam watched, gun poised at all times, as the figure took a shaking step into the motel room. Just as he curled his finger around the trigger, it spoke. At the sound of the achingly familiar voice, the gun dropped with a clatter to the floor just in front of where Sam knelt.

"Oh that's just brilliant. I come bearing gifts only to have a _gun_ shoved in my face? Real nice, Sammy."

"G.. _Gabriel_?" Sam managed to choke out, his throat becoming instantly dry as his heartbeat began to rocket. Slowly, he got to his feet, eyes fixed on the shadowy shape still in the doorway.

"Yeah, Sam, it's me. Come give me a hand, would you?"

"But.. How..? I mean, what -"

"Sam, we can talk about this when my back isn't about to break! Come and give me a hand!" Gabriel snapped, and as Sam watched, the figure crumpled towards the floor. "Son of a _bitch_!"

Sam's eyes widened as something fell away from Gabriel and hit the floor with a heavy sounding thump. Gabriel bent down, gripping a handful of whatever it was and then turned his gaze to Sam. The shadows caused by the motel room were casting flickering shadows across Gabriel's face, as the only source of light were the bolts of lightning that had begun to illuminate the sky. But his amber eyes remained as bright and as warm as Sam could remember. The various shades ranging from toffee to caramel, to the steely bronze that now shone in them, portraying his frustration.

"Sam! Come on, I need your help here!"

The hunter twitched, snapping out of his daydream and praying silently to the same Godly force he had just been criticising that Gabriel hadn't read his thoughts. Abandoning the gun on the floor, he swept around the edge of the bed and hurried to Gabriel. Just as he bent down towards the shadowy mass on the floor, a fork of lightning lit up the sky directly outside, and Sam caught a full view of exactly what lay before him. The sight of the slumped body made him recoil slightly.

It was Castiel.

The man was lying face down on the floor, but Sam had spent so much time around the angel, he was easily distinguishable even from the back. His dark hair was slick with rain, plastered flat on his head. He wore the same suit Jimmy had before Castiel had first taken over his body, and this too was dripping water onto the motel carpet. Sam glanced up and met Gabriel's gaze; the archangel, like Castiel, was soaking wet. He was watching Sam with a slight frown on his face, and for the first time since Sam had known him, looked genuinely sympathetic.

"What happened..?" Sam asked as he gathered a handful of Castiel's clothing and helped Gabriel to hoist him upwards.

He became an instant dead weight and Sam staggered slightly, not expecting to be supporting his full mass. Castiel's head lolled forwards as they moved and he emitted a low groan as the two of them dragged him across the room and depositing onto the bed Sam had just been sitting on. Once the weight of his younger brother was removed from his shoulders, Gabriel straightened up and ran a hand through his damp hair. Sam couldn't tear his eyes away as the archangel frowned, and then with a snap of his fingers, became bone dry once again. Feeling slightly disappointed, Sam turned his gaze back to Castiel. The angel was shivering slightly, so Sam reached across to the other bed and grabbed the duvet, throwing it over Castiel.

"What the hell happened, Gabriel?" He asked, looking back at the archangel.

"I woke up, not far from Singer's place. In Sioux Falls." Gabriel said, running a hand over his chin and settling down into the chair by the table. Sam took a seat opposite him, his eyes locked on Gabriel's. "I guess Dad finally took the stick out of his backside and decided to put a few things right. I was all ready to snap myself far away from everything in this damn place, just like I would have done before I got involved in the damn Apocalypse. Thanks a bunch for that, by the way."

Sam cast his eyes away, ashamed. "I regretted having to leave you there, you know.." He mumbled.

"Yeah, I know, Kiddo." Gabriel said, his voice warm. "Not much of a sacrifice if you'd have come back, though." He pointed out. "I was perfectly willing to stay dead. I'd gone out a hero, fighting for what Dad believed in; humans overthrowing the devil." He shrugged. "Next thing I know, I'm waking up and finding myself almost outside Bobby Singer's doorstep. Well, what's left of it." He shot Sam another expression that was full of sympathy.

"But.. What about Cas?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, but I know my bet's riding on Dad. Probably got sick of you whining at him." Gabriel grinned while Sam flushed.

"You heard me?"

"Sammy. I'm insulted. Of course I could hear you; you weren't making much effort to keep your voice down."

Sam's face turned a slightly deeper shade of red, and he glanced back at Castiel, just as an excuse to look away from Gabriel's eyes, glinting with their usual mischievous glint. "Is he back to normal then?"

Gabriel leant back in his chair and looked across at Castiel too. "Seems to be. His final sacrifice seemed to be the infamous cleansing act, as mentioned in that book of lies your kind base so much belief on. The Bible." He clarified when Sam's eyebrows rose. "Guess he was begging Dad for forgiveness. Looks like he was more than willing to accept. I found him floating in the damn lake. Had to jump in to grab him."

Just then, Castiel stirred. His eyes slowly opened a crack before they slid closed again and he groaned. He shifted his head first one way and then the other, and then almost silently, muttered a single word.

"Dean.."

"Speaking of, where is he?" Gabriel asked, looking around the motel room.

"Went out to get food," Sam replied, a smile spreading slowly onto his face. "Oh, he is going to love this.."

"My sentiments exactly, Sammy." Gabriel grinned. "Doubt he'd be too pleased to see me, though. Can't imagine what I might have done to offend him so.."

"I got two words for you; Mystery Spot."

"Is he _still_ going on about those damn tacos?"

Sam opened his mouth to retort, but he was cut off by the sound of shifting material. He looked up and saw Castiel sitting bolt upright, glancing all around himself as if he couldn't quite get his bearings.

"Cas?" Sam called.

The angel jumped out of his skin and whirled around to face the hunter. His head fell into his trademark head tilt, and very slowly, he said, "Sam..?"

"How you feeling, Cas?" Sam asked, throwing the angel a reassuring grin.

The angel merely groaned again and shook his head. He looked exhausted. Dark circles had formed underneath his eyes, and he looked thinner than Sam remembered. His clothes were badly crumpled and soggy, still dripping water onto the bed he sat on. His hair stuck up in random places, and his blue eyes were slightly dull. He was still glancing around the room in an almost expectant manner.

"Where is Dean, Sam?" Castiel asked, his voice sounding deeper and gruffer than usual.

"He should be back any moment now. He only -"

But the rest of his sentence died in his throat. That moment, another sound cut through the howling wind and booming thunder of the outside, rang around the motel room louder than the drum of the rain against the window; a deep, rolling growl that could only ever belong to the Impala. An instant change seemed to come over

Castiel. He sat up straighter on the bed, poised and listening intently. Almost at once, a familiar spark lit up the blue iris of his eye, and he turned to the door, much like a dog awaiting its master's return. Sam exchanged a look with Gabriel, who was tipping back on his chair, a lollipop in hand.

They heard a car door slamming, before footsteps approached the motel, and then Dean was there, staring with an open mouth at the open door of their room. Rainwater dripped from his clothes and the end of his hair, and his skin was illuminated by the moisture on his face. In his hands, he clutched a paper bag which had begun to wilt from overexposure to the heavy rain outside. His eyes immediately travelled to Sam and Gabriel seated at the table, and he performed a double take when he saw the archangel.

"Wah..? You..?" He managed to splutter, but Gabriel only grinned wickedly.

"If that's how he reacts when he sees the _starter_, imagine what he's going to be like when he sees the main course!" He cried, turning to Sam, smile only growing in size.

"What are you-?"

"Hello, Dean."

All movement within the motel seemed to freeze and silence fell. Even the storm raging outside seemed to quieten down an octave or two. Dean's eyes widened, and slower than Sam had ever seen him move before, he turned to face the beds. Castiel was still sitting there. He still looked weary, and as if he hadn't had any proper rest in a millennia, but now his blue eyes were glimmering and the tiniest hint of a smile was playing at his lips. Dean's jaw dropped when he saw the angel, and the bag of food slipped from his grasp, landing on the floor. Neither Dean nor Castiel seemed to notice.

"You never have a camera when you need one.." Gabriel muttered dryly to Sam. "The look on his face is _classic_.."

And then suddenly, without a word, Dean turned and walked swiftly from the motel room. Sam and Gabriel exchanged a look of utter bafflement, while Castiel's posture visibly slumped. A deep frown settled onto Gabriel's face upon seeing this, and he had half risen from his chair, presumably to go after Dean, when the hunter returned. In his hands he held the trenchcoat.

As if on impulse, Castiel got to his feet and took a step towards Dean. The hunter closed the gap between them, throwing the precious coat over the angel's shoulders when they met. And then, with a strangled noise in the back of his throat, Dean Winchester grabbed hold of the lapels of the trenchcoat and pulled Castiel against his chest. He curled his arms around the angel and held him tightly, resting his chin on Castiel's shoulder.

"Don't you ever.. _Ever_.. Do this again.." He growled. "Promise me, Cas.."

The angel had melted into the contact, his arms raising somewhat hesitantly around Dean. When the hunter didn't push him away or pull away, Castiel tightened his hold on the human, on _his_ human.

"Of course." He replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"And he says he doesn't do chick flick moments.." Gabriel said in a voice louder than was necessary.

Sam grinned as Dean flipped the archangel off, still not letting go of Castiel. He knew that their road was far from over, if it ever did end that was, but at least they had the company of their respective angels back. That would make it all that much more bearable. Underneath the table, Gabriel placed a gentle kick on Sam's shin.

"How's that for a straight answer then, Sammy?" He asked, sticking the lollipop into his mouth.

Sam grinned, and tilted his head back so that he faced the ceiling. "Looks like your dad can actually do something right when he puts his mind to it."

"Amen to that." The archangel replied.


End file.
